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Last night, I posted an email that Chris Allbritton, an American reporter based in Beirut, had sent to National Review Online in early October. In it, Allbritton called W. Thomas Smith Jr., who has been posting stories from Lebanon for NRO, a “liar.” This was one of many red flags NRO received about Smith’s work, but kept publishing him nonetheless.
Now Jonathan Schwarz at Mother Jones writes about his own curious experience with NRO’s online editor Kathryn Jean Lopez, who was very, very slow to address the obvious problems with Smith’s work.
Meanwhile, The New Republic has published a long story confirming what has been obvious for a long time: the columns of “Baghdad Diarist” Scott Thomas Beauchamp contained large amounts of crap.
More from Ken Silverstein:
Commentary — November 17, 2015, 6:41 pm
The Clintons’ so-called charitable enterprise has served as a vehicle to launder money and to enrich family friends.
Years ago, I lived in Montana, a land of purple sunsets, clear streams, and snowflakes the size of silver dollars drifting through the cold air. There were no speed limits and you could legally drive drunk. My small apartment in Missoula had little privacy. In order to write, I rented an off-season fishing cabin on Rock Creek, a one-room place with a bed and a bureau. I lacked the budget for a desk. My idea was to remove a sliding door from a closet in my apartment and place it over a couple of hastily cobbled-together sawhorses.
Average exam score, in a SUNY-Fredonia study, for students who only listened to a podcast of their professor’s lecture:
Boys in Taiwan are likelier than girls to vomit in order to lose weight.
Hundreds of women in yoga pants marched through Barrington, Rhode Island, to defend their right to wear the garment, and Trump vowed to sue every woman accusing him of sexual assault. “I look so forward to doing that,” he said.
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"She never thanked me, never looked at me—melted away into the miserable night, in the strangest manner I ever saw. I have seen many strange things, but not one that has left a deeper impression on my memory than the dull impassive way in which that worn-out heap of misery took that piece of money, and was lost."